Questioning
by Neko-sama no Kokoro
Summary: As long as there is someone to play the role, there will always be a question that cannot be answered.


Questioning

Disclaimer: I really hope Hoshino-sensei doesn't do something like this with her precious characters.

* * *

It was dark.

Rinari wasn't quite sure of the time – for all she knew, it could have been mid-day – but the clouds had hidden the sun for quite some time and cast a shadow across the barren landscape. There was barely enough light to see by, yet the tombstones still cast a dark, foreboding shadow over the ground.

She was alone.

It had only been days, yet it felt like months – no, years – since that time. Logically, it couldn't be that way; she hadn't even _known_ him for a year, and yet it had felt like a lifetime. Had been a lifetime, for some. At that time, many lives had ended, and others had ceased to exist. She wasn't sure if the Earl of the Millenium had had a life then. He was gone, that was certain, but she dearly wished he had been a living creature, that life could be taken from him as it had for others…

No, it wasn't right to think that way. No one deserved to die, even if…

Her trembling fingers touched the stone in front of her, tracing the words. All of it was fresh, merely days old. She'd been there for days, too. She'd been sitting there in this cemetery for as long as the newly cut stone had, and she nearly expected to be there for the rest of its existence.

She didn't realize that the ground beneath her was wet by now. She never had.

The tears were still falling as she mouthed the word: _Why?_

She didn't understand. She didn't think she ever would.

Her voice was broken now, and the tremble of her fingers could be heard in her voice, too.

"Why," she whispered. "You told me…"

She couldn't finish. _You told me you wouldn't leave._

_You knew it would destroy my world._

_You made that promise to me when…_

No, don't think about that now. That was the past. That wasn't ever going to happen again now that… now that she was alone.

Her other arm remained wrapped around her body, her hand resting on her abdomen. She felt sick. Hungry, too – she hadn't eaten in days. Someone would come by eventually, she supposed. Maybe one day they would successfully take her away.

_Why_, she thought again.

_You can bring him back._ It wasn't her thought, yet it echoed in her mind. _You can revive him._

The voice wasn't familiar. She'd heard the words before – oh, many times – yet never directed to her. She never thought she would hear them again, though. She never believed anyone would, not after that time.

The Earl of the Millenium was gone, wasn't he…?

Did that matter anymore?

_I want to,_ she thought. _I want to revive him._

_You can._

Her hand slipped down from the stone.

_I will._

The earth split under her.

* * *

Years later, no one would ever remember the Earl of the Millenium and the Noah that followed him. Even the Exorcists of the Black Order had mostly forgotten. He was dead, after all. He had been dead for many years. Those that were old enough to remember the horrors that he had brought upon the world remembered him as a distant memory.

He was associated no longer with akuma, but more with the events that had removed important members of their order. Indeed, a few even knew of his involvement with the new figure to whom their lives were dedicated as opponents.

The Earl used to be like that, they argued. He, too, roamed the shadows, seeking the newly deceased and resurrecting them as akuma. He, too, sacrificed human life for the undead and created an army of akuma to further the destruction. He, too, was barely human.

Yet no one could argue the differences. The Earl had been mad. This new figure, it was clear, radiated a completely different aura. It was emotionless.

There was a belief among the Order that if you looked into those eyes, you would find nothing. Nothing, that is, but an endless night – a penetrating darkness. Even in encountering her, no one dared look.

Soon, everyone dreaded sightings – both of her, and of the figure that preceded her.

It was said that any time someone died, a close family member or friend would be visited by her. A small child, dressed all in white, with colourless hair, carrying a large scythe – she was the messenger of the one who would come after. The one who would revive the dead and destroy the living, creating a monster.

Black Lady, some called her. Others just referred to her as Her, or the Lady. There was no doubt who they meant. A rare few called her by a more truthful name: the Dark Butterfly.

They had known her once.

But that was many years ago.

* * *

"Someone has been left alone again," she whispered. Her hands – paler than they had once been, but otherwise unchanged despite the years – reached out to stroke his face. "She has gone to them. She will make sure they will find their loved one again."

"That-" Her fingers slipped to his mouth, silencing him.

"I don't want anyone to be left alone."

_Even if you must do this?_

She had never noticed, he realized. Even after all these years, she had never noticed that he still asked that question that she once had.

It was a different context, yet the question remained the same.

_Why did you choose this path, Rinari?_

He felt her heartbeat close to him. He felt her arms around him. Yet there was no warmth.

She never looked into the blue glow of his eyes. Even when he was silent, they still pleaded with her, questioned her. She'd find love there, if she looked.

But she couldn't hear the question anymore.

_Why?

* * *

_

Officially the shortest thing I've ever written. Coincidentally, it's also the darkest.

As for questions, it's probably exactly what you suspect it is – just like the little girl.


End file.
